Of Poseidon 02: Of Triton

asking for her permission. More than taking into consideration her feelings. More, even, than respecting her opinion or whatever argument she could propose. This is not for Emma’s benefit at all. In doing all these things, Grom is showing Galen—and Nalia—that he approves of Emma. That her Half-Breed status is not something detestable to him personally. That his opinion, even as Triton king, does not necessarily agree with the law.
    Which is no small thing, in Galen’s eyes. It gives him true hope that someday he will have Emma without betraying everything he’s ever known.
    Galen glances at Nalia. She’s watching Grom and Emma with eyes brimming in tears. Nalia knows, too. She knows what Grom is saying between words.
    Emma swallows. “The thing is, I don’t understand why any of this matters. Why is this even a discussion? Galen and Mom don’t want to mate with each other, so they won’t. They don’t ever have to go back. They could all stay all land. Even … even you could.”
    Grom nods, thoughtful. Galen recognizes his brother’s diplomatic expression. “That’s true, Emma. I can’t force them back into the water, and I wouldn’t want it to come to that. And I think we all know there’s not much your mother can be forced to do.” Grom glances pointedly at Nalia, his eyes full of meaning. “But if I know anything about my brother, it’s that he’s loyal to his kind. To our legacy. If I know him at all, he’ll want to at least try to do this the right way first. Because he loves you enough to go through the trouble of setting things straight.”
    Grom is more observant than Galen ever gave him credit for. Galen does want to do it the right way. It’s not a small thing to give up everything you’ve ever known. But it’s not a small thing to give up Emma, either. If there is even a slight possibility he can have them both—Emma and his heritage—then it’s certainly worth fighting for.
    The small hope in him swells even bigger.
    Grom looks at Galen, an obvious request for support. Galen nods down at her. “I think we should try, angelfish. It would mean a lot to me if we could try.”
    “And then what?” she says, pulling her hand from Grom’s grasp. “Then Grom will mate with Mom and live happily ever after twenty thousand leagues under the sea? And what about you and me, Galen? How’s that going to work? What about college and—”
    “Emma,” Nalia says softly. “These are all decisions that don’t need to be made right now. These are all decisions that shouldn’t be made right now.”
    Grom nods. “Your mother is right. We need to do what we can now so we have the freedom to make these decisions later, when the time comes to make them. Would you not agree, Emma?”
    Emma bites her lip. “I guess so.”
    Nalia stands. “Let’s hit the road. I have some arrangements that need to be made before we can leave. I’ll change Rachel’s bandage before we go. We can set her up in the back of Galen’s SUV with some pillows.”

9

    IT’S ONE of those moments where life seems to pause, and the universe opens its mouth and vomits comprehension on you. It’s not knowledge, not cold hard facts that you can talk about in casual conversation, like we did in the motel room, surrounded by Galen and Rayna and Toraf. People who I’d already accepted could sprout a fin. Sure we’d talked about Mom being one of those people, too. But until now, until this, I guess I didn’t really believe it.
    Even when Galen had stood there in my kitchen and accused my mom of being a dead fish monarch, I thought we’d be having an awkward conversation right now. Maybe trying to explain some inside joke he’d been telling. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Nalia.” Chuckle, chuckle.
    Talk is talk is talk. Talk is what we did before true realization hit. Realization that there had been an inside joke, and I was the butt of it. For eighteen freaking years. Hardy. Har. Har.
    But those were just facts. Knowledge. Like knowing how many feet are in a mile or knowing which city is the capital of China. Facts with no emotion attached. I’d even heard her on the phone a while ago, calling her employer to arrange a leave of absence, paying all the utilities way ahead, droning on about all the things I shouldn’t forget to do at the house. It was like planning a vacation or something.
    But this? Watching my mom’s long silver fin move her through the water behind our house with none of the